


What I've Been Waiting For

by cherryblossomtree



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Depression, Internal Monologue, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblossomtree/pseuds/cherryblossomtree
Summary: I think of all the things I have done wrong to distract myself from the pain enveloping my body. There are too many instances where I wasn't good enough.





	What I've Been Waiting For

**Author's Note:**

> This does deal with depressing/suicidal thoughts. Just throwing in a potential trigger warning.

Why can't I do anything right? I laugh bitterly as I walk the dark streets, needing to escape. I think of all the things I have done wrong to distract myself from the pain enveloping my body. There are too many instances where I wasn't good enough. For one, all the friends that have left my life. Who could blame them? I'm a loner. A freak. I'm not capable of showing love. How can I show something I've never been taught? It was always me. Always my fault. Of course, it had to be.

   Tonight for a perfect example, the yelling and screaming and oh god, the smell of alcohol on my stepdad. The bruising touches and the way my mother encouraged it. I deserved it. She said I did, so she must be right. Of course, she had to be.

   The frigid cold whipped at my face repeatedly, rendering my body a shivering mess as I limped away from my home, away from people, away from the insanity known as my life. My heart and body ache but no tears fall. They have been poured out long ago and there is only a dull ache left in my chest. That and the bloody reminders of what an excuse I am. My feet are long past sore when I reach the Acosta bridge. It's a miracle I've gotten this far with all of my injuries. As I peer over the edge, I observe the peaceful water as it quietly stirs. The ripples of water crashing and rushing to go nowhere. How the waves are bold, forceful, and free: things I could never be. Not in this life, at least. I've been thinking about coming here, especially as of lately.

   Will tonight be the night I cease to exist from the world? Do I even have the guts to do it? I bend to grab a rock beside the edge and chuck it into the water. It is too far down to hear the plop it makes as it sinks into the water but when I close my eyes it feels like I'm falling with it. Sinking. Then nothing. It's gone. Just how I want to be.

   What's left in this life for me? There aren't any other options. Blades to a wrist is just further pain and pills can only subdue the madness for so long. After this, I'll be alright. Of course, I have to be. I take a large breathe that pains my most likely broken rib. Nothing is holding me back so why am I hesitating? Is it because of the Sunday school lessons I attended when I was young? Hearing the scriptures about God's love and how he cares for everyone. Could he possibly love someone like me? There's something I wasn't taught in Sunday school but I still know well; people who kill themselves don't go to the happy place up above. And all I want is to be happy. Is that so hard? I scream at the sky. I hold in a sob as I pull at my hair in frustration. I can't do this. I really can't. I want to, but I also don't. What should I do? For the first time in a while, tears stream down my face as I sit on the bridge. I try to level my breathing. A panic attack is the last thing I need right now. In. Out. In and out. I stay silent for several minutes: thinking, breathing, crying.

   Hey, maybe I will get through this. I mean, I can at least try. Maybe this God thing will save me, because I know nothing else will. Not even myself. I feel strange. I feel like I have a shot at life. Is this what hope feels like? Whatever it is, it's more than I've felt in a very long time. I dry my face with my sleeves as I stare at the water. I don't think there's an ultimatum anymore. I think with God, I could be okay. I have to be. Of course, I have to be. Perhaps he's the superhero I wished would save me all those years ago. Could this actually work or am I just plain crazy? I don't know. But maybe I'll be alright. With him, I have to be. Of course, I have to be.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: I nearly got in trouble for writing this at school. Leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed.


End file.
